


Across Your Skin, My Love

by lavenderlotion



Series: Steter Appreciation Week [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Fingering, Blowjobs, Consensual Sex, Consensual Underage Sex, First Time, Frottage, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Sheriff Stilinski is a Bad Parent, Soul Bond, Soulmarks, Soulmates, Steter Week, Steter Week 2017, Sugar Baby Stiles Stilinski, Sugar Daddy Peter Hale, Teacher Peter Hale, Teacher-Student Relationship, cum swapping, stiles is sixteen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-04 03:13:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12761934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: Stiles knew he had a soulmate - had gotten his mark when he was fourteen like everyone else. He just - he just didn’t think he would meet the man for years to come. he knew the statics, knew that most people didn’t meet their bonded until their early-mid twenties.So he was really not been expecting to his name on the arm of his hot new English teacher.He had to admit it turned out pretty amazing, though.





	Across Your Skin, My Love

**Author's Note:**

> November 29: Soulmates, Mates, and Anchors AU
> 
> By far the favorites of the theme suggestions, here is where lasting, deep, and abiding love and need come into play. What causes Stiles to become Peter’s Anchor? When did they find out they are each other’s soulmates? Are mating bites your favorite thing ever? Give us your spin on these awesome tropes!
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [Check out the rest of the weeks prompts, right here!](http://the-redcrate.tumblr.com/post/165549676132/today-is-the-day-we-share-the-theme-suggestions)

It wasn’t as though Stiles believed that no one would ever love him.

It was just - it was just sometimes it got hard to ignore the nagging feelings of doubt, the small part of his heart that was flagged with insecurities and uncertainty. Normally - normally he could hold his head high, could ignore the taunts and teasing of his peers. It could be hard to pretend like nothing bothered him, but he did it.

But people hurled words like they did stones, trying their best to tear him down. They didn’t seem to care about the damage they were causing when they did so, and instead poked and prodded harder - trying their best to get Stiles to break. After years of near relentless bullying, it could be hard to remain unchanged by the words. It didn’t matter that his soulmark was stark black against his skin, didn’t matter that he knew there was someone out there for him, someone who would love him. It - it was more than that.

Stiles, like near everyone else, got his soulmark when he was fourteen. In the last forty years, the controversy on soulmates had drastically increased. Anti’s have been arguing the appropriateness if soulmarks, trying to convince others that the age of which people acquired their soulmarks was too young, and how it was ‘sexualizing children’. Stiles had done his own research, and like many people who based their opinion in science and fact, knew that the reason soulmarks appeared at fourteen was simply because at one time, that was the average age of marriage.

However, life expectancy were no longer in its thirties, and there were people who felt as though soulmarks were ruining the innocence of childhood by appearing at such a young age. Stiles had no clue what all these people against them wanted to do about it - since soulmarks were literally fated by the _universe_ , but.

And so yes, he had a soulmate, but sometimes he couldn’t help but thinking what if his soulmate couldn't love him. Stiles knew his own faults and that was quite possibly the worst part, that he could see what others meant when they tried to tear him down. He _knew_ he was too loud and too strange and talked too much. He knew just how weird he was, how uncommon many of his interest were. He knew that he was too active, that he was annoying and too hyper. These were all things he had been hearing for years, and they were true. Stiles just didn’t think it would really matter. Not after he met his soulmate.

At least that was what he had always been banking on, that his soulmate would just accept him with his flaws.

Stiles had never once looked his soulmate up. There was a real possibility there were many Peter Hales out there in the world, and he didn’t want to become obsessed with trying to figure out which one could be his. Besides, looking up one's soulmate was incredibly taboo, something frowned upon by most of his generation. He knew people who had, who became obsessed with trying to figure out _who_ they could be fated too. And besides, the idea of a chance encounter ending with meeting one's soulmate was largely romanticized, and Stiles was not ashamed to admit he fell into that boat.

More so, Stiles just - it wasn't that he didn’t care, because he _did_ , he just didn’t want to know.

He had other things to focus on. He had his school and his hobbies and _life_ \- cooking and cleaning for his dad and _running a household._ He didn’t have the _time_ to stress over who his soulmate could possibly be. He knew he had time to look, that stressing out over whether or not he would find his soulmate within the next year before he graduated was just stupid. He didn’t have the luxury of time in the same way his peers did. Besides, he knew the statistics, had read the facts, and most people don’t meet their bonded until their early to mid twenties.

Finding his soulmate would wait until he graduated. When he had the time, yes, but when he was no longer a loser, no longer the bottom of the high school food chain. When he had a chance to make something more of himself - to become more than what others around him decided he could be. And Stiles knew he would, too. If there was one thing he never doubted it was his potential to be more. Sure, he may have a few insecurities about himself, but that didn’t mean he was blind to how smart he was, what he could do with himself one day if he tried.

So he didn’t mind being alone right now. After all, he was _sixteen_ and in his senior year of high school, he didn’t need to be worrying about whoever he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with.

* * *

Stiles could do nothing but sigh as he sunk further into his seat. His class was talking loud around him, his peers taking advantage of their missing teacher. He was focusing on his homework, trying to get further ahead while he had the time. It wasn’t as though he _needed_ to, considering he was already a week ahead in the class. He just had so much to do that he would use any spare moment he came across.

He pulled out his personal notebook, doodling on one of the free pages. He was no artist, but it was nice to do something so mindless, the white noise of the class fading around him. He was at tricky part in his report and letting his hands move as his mind worked often helped to think things through. He almost didn’t notice when the noise stopped, but the silence was abrupt enough that it caused him to look up, to look over to the door and -

And.

 _Fuck_ , that man was hot.

The man was standing just inside the classroom door, staring out over the class with a sharp gaze. He looked incredibly unimpressed and the look alone was enough to makes Stiles lower his eyes in shame - even though he hadn’t even _been_ talking. Lowering his eyes was a bit of a mistake, seeing as he was now staring at the man's chest, pectorals straining against both his shirt and cardigan.

His biceps were not doing much better and Stiles was surprised he was able to keep in the noise of want. Standing there in a white button down, a light blue cardigan and black slacks was hands down the hottest man Stiles had ever seen. The man's shoulders were just as wide as his _everything_ \- his thighs included - and they led to a thick neck. The man's jaw was freaking chiseled, covered in a neatly trimmed layering of dark stubble, his hair carefully gelled back.

The man’s eyes were what really stopped Stiles, though. He could tell all the way from his seat in the back that they were a bright, light blue, and they were looking out over the class with disdain, though not lingering on any one student for long. It was a good technique, one to make everyone feel small and Stiles smiled at it, sitting up just at littlest bit straighter.

He had done nothing to feel ashamed for, after all.

The man smirked when he caught Stiles’ eye before moving on, the twist of his lips slipping off as he continued his appraisal. Stiles felt unbelievably proud of himself for it, to be the only one to gain a bit of approval from the - the teacher? He was pretty that’s who the man was, especially when he placed a briefcase on the desk.

“Yes, I am your teacher. No, you are not going to get an easy grade just because you have already been in class for a month. Yes, Mrs. Pletzer is on maternity leave. My name is Mr. Hale, if you think what I walked into is going to pass around here, you can leave now. So-” Stiles knew the man had kept talking, could see the man's hands moving and his lips forming words but he couldn’t - he couldn't _hear_ anything.

His mind was still repeating, _’My name is Mr. Hale, name is Mr. Hale, Mr. Hale. Mr. Hale’_ over and over and he couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of his heart echoing in his ears. His forearm was itching under his sweater, the black of his soulmark feeling hot where it was seared into his skin. He - he, _fuck_.

It couldn't be, right? There was - no, it couldn’t be. But, but what if it _was_ ? His soulmate could be right in front of him, _teaching him English_ and Stiles could focus on nothing else, his eyes going far off as his head spun with the new information. He knew he was useless the rest of the class, but the weight of the possibility was too much, was settling heavy in his chest and he didn’t, he wasn’t sure how to handle any of it.

Stiles waited for the class to filter out before he approached the man's desk. He kept his head down and his hands in his pockets, trying to quell their shaking. He wasn’t - fuck he wasn’t even sure what he was going to say. Mr. Hale - Peter, probably - hadn’t made one indication that he knew who Stiles was, so maybe, maybe it was a mistake? He had no idea how many Hales there could be in the world.

“Hello there,” The man spoke, his voice just as attractive as the rest of him, soft and smooth.

“Is, uhm is your n-name Peter?” Stiles stuttered it out, his voice cracking twice during the short sentence.

“It is,” The man replied staring at Stiles questionably, head titled to the side. Stiles thought the sight was cute, almost. Apparently the man was hotter up close and it just made him all the more aware of his appearnce, of his baggy jeans and ratty hoodie, of his overgrown hair.

He didn’t normally care about how he looked, either. It was just, this man was his _soulmate_ , and while he was wearing form fitted slacks and a button up, Stiles could have passed for a homeless teen. He knew the image he was broadcasting wasn’t an attractive one, but he didn’t know what to do about it. It just made his hands shake harder where they were now wringing together. He could feel the heat in his cheeks, knew they were blotchy and red and ugly. And fuck, Stiles knew he was ugly, had been told often enough.

“I’m sorry, Stiles was it? How do you know that?” The man's voice was calm now, smooth and slow and hesitant, like he was speaking to some sort of nervou animal.

“It - it’s uh. _Fuck_ ,” Stiles breathed out, pushing up his sleeve and showing his mark to the man.

The man, it really _was_ Peter, sucked in a sharp breath and stared wide eyed. Stiles rounded the desk slowly, keeping his arm outstretched even as he got closer, Peter standing to meet the boy.

Stiles looked up but the man's eyes were still staring at his own name, though he did offer his arm. Stiles pushed the man's sleeves up with shaking fingers, trying to actually get a full breath in over the _panicholyfuckingshitsoulmatethatismyname_ that was screaming inside his mind. His - his name was right there.

And to see it, to see his name neatly printed on someone's else's skin - _that_ stole Stiles breath away, made his knees feel weak and his stomach knot. This, well this _man_ was fated to him, made for him and essentially perfect for him. And yes, Stiles knew that not everyone ended up with their bonded. It was inevitable, really, but he knew that the majority did.

It was romanticized, obviously, and Stiles wanted it. He wanted the hallmark romance and giant hearts swimming in his soulmate's eyes when the man looked at him. He wanted soft and sweet and he wanted _forever_ , and he was now sure he wasn’t going to get it. Why would, why would this grown man want anything to do with Stiles? What could he even offer someone who already had their own life, who was in such a different point.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he should have been expecting when he first touched his soulmate, but _nothing_ wasn’t really it. Well - not _nothing_ entirely. The man’s hand was warm where he grabbed Stiles’ bicep, but it wasn’t anything like he had read. Fiction made soulbonds out to be this electrical, otherworldly experience that would sing inside his body while really - really it just felt like someone was holding onto his arm.

Stiles wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or not, but it did feel a little like a let down. The man was still softly resting his palm against Stiles’ bicep, squeezing softly when Stiles just shook his head to himself, trying to get out of his thoughts.

“ _Fuck_ ,” The man swore under his breath, Stiles still tracing his own name into the mans skin, eyes looking up to see the man smiling softly, “I didn’t think I’d ever find you.”

“How, uh how old are you?” Stiles asked because fuck, the man was older, though Stiles honestly couldn’t tell how much.

“Thirty six,” The man said quietly, a wry smile twisting onto his lips that Stiles hated immediately. God. Stiles - Stiles couldn’t even imagine waiting so long to find his soulmate, what it must have been like for the man. He probably watched all his friends find their bonded, watched as they settled down and created families and Peter - Peter never found his because the boy had been exactly that, still a boy.

So he stepped closer, stepping into the man's personal space. Peter let him, wrapping his arms around the boy and pulling him tight once he was close enough. Stiles just fisted the man's shirt in his hands, trying desperately not to cry. Even - even this was more than he thought he would be allowed to have.

He wasn’t sure he could  believe it. Peter was warm against him and the man was holding him tight, as though he was scared of letting go. Which, he could be. He had waited so long, an entire lifetime to find Stiles who had only been waiting a little over two years. It was nothing compared to the man's _twenty_ , and Stiles felt a little pang of misplaced guilt.

He wasn't going to complain though, not if it meant Peter would keep holding him like this, the man's face pressed into his hair as Stiles buried himself in the man's neck, breathing in musky aftershave and pine. He pulled back slightly so he could look at the other man, and his breath caught when he saw Peter slowly blinking open, and incredibly soft smile on his lips, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

“God, you’re _pretty_ ,” The man said, pulling the boy close once again. Stiles just leaned into it, letting the man support his weight as he hid his blush in the man's chest.

Stiles had never - well he had never been called _anything_ like that before. Not attractive, or hot and certainly never pretty. It had always been such a feminine word for him, not something he had ever associated with boys before. He always figured that to call a man pretty would be a bad thing, something negative? Men weren’t supposed to be pretty after all, but Stiles found that having _Peter_ call him pretty just made his heart flutter and his stomach bunch up.

“You’re pretty too,” He mumbled into the man’s chest, his mind blanking at being so close to someone else.

He’d never - he had never been very physical. His mother had always been ready with a hug, always accepting of Stiles being close and cuddling up to her. His father let his mother do that, never quite offering the same amount of affection. It was worse when his mother died, his father retreating into his work and a bottle. And yes, he had stopped - or at least slowed down - his drinking, but he had never quite managed to bring himself back from his work, never quite being there enough for Stiles.

Or, sometimes, at all.

And it was fine, whatever. Stiles had done well on his own anyway. Not having friends meant he could devote himself to his studies and he had been incredibly proud of himself when he’d been able to skip straight into the tenth grade, skipping the ninth. He didn’t so much need friends anyway. In his free time he taught himself to cook, to knit. He played video games and he watched TV. He read, a lot, and this year he had picked up extra courses.

It worked for him, the life he had created for himself. He didn’t particularly _need_ anyone else, but being close to Peter felt better than the boy knew how to explain. It had been so long since someone hugged him, and he had _never_ been hugged so desperately before, like the man couldn't let go.

Stiles - Stiles felt that too. When he wrapped his own arms around Peter’s waist he latched on tight, refusing to budge. He was - he was terrified the man would change his mind, would spring away and spit words of disgust. He'd never been allowed close to someone else like this, had never before been wanted by someone like this. He was just worried Peter was going to change his mind.

The man was gorgeous, and Stiles wasn’t sure why he would be content with Stiles after waiting around for so long. It wasn’t just Stiles’ physicality, but his age as well. He was so _young_ , so much younger than Peter and he had to wonder how the man would ever want him after he got over the initial shock of meeting his soulmate.

“I’m sixteen,” He said quietly, not willing to see the disappointment in the man's eyes, “I turn seventeen in April.”

“Darling, look at me,” Peter said it softly and when Stiles finally did the man was smiling down at him, two hands coming up to hold his face gently, “This was a Senior level, advanced English course. You are quite smart, aren’t you?”

Stiles blushed deepened and he dropped his eyes, making a strangled noise when Peter leaned in. It felt like a lifetime before the man's lips pressed warm and open to his temple. Peter breathed against his hair, pulling in a long drag of breath before kissing the boys skin, tucking him against his chest the moment after.

Stiles let it happen, let himself be held again, a little bit of his earlier worry leaving with the tightness in his shoulders. He was still - he was still _worried_ , scared that Peter would see something he didn’t like, would leave. But now he just held on tight and let the feel of the man wipe away everything else.

* * *

Stiles wasn’t really sure how to proceed.

He had eventually left the man's classroom, only letting go once the bell signaling the end of the period rang out. Stiles didn’t even care that he had just skipping a class, couldn’t bring himself to really be bothered by it. He was too - out of it, to care. His mind was still spinning, going too fast, spinning inside his head.

He didn’t even know how to react to what he had found out, had no idea how to properly process what had happened. He - he had met his _soulmate_ , has seen his own name carefully printed on another's skin and had met the person who bared his name on theirs. He, god, he didn’t know how to feel. He had never, he had _never_ expected this.

It wasn’t just that Peter was his teacher, or twenty years his senior, or like the hottest man Stiles had ever seen, it was just, he had never expected to meet his bonded in _high school_ . He wasn’t even sure if he was ready to have a soulmate, but here the man was. And Peter had been waiting for _so long_. If he wanted something with Stiles, the boy would gladly give it to him

So Stiles had spent the rest of his day in a haze, going through the motions but not paying particular attention to his surroundings. Even his usual bullying seemed to hardly bother him and when he had been shoved - particularly hard - into a locker he had just kept going, leaning down to pick him up his books before continuing on his way.

He had tried to pay attention as best has he could. The drawl of his teachers and the chattering of his classmates did help to distract him, to drown out the pounding in his ears. His heart continued to beat too fast he whole day and he felt dizzy as he moved between classes. He just, _he_ _had a soulmate_.

That wasn’t a surprise. He had known since his mark appeared that he had a soulmate - and that itself had been almost a surprise. His peers had been especially harsh the weeks leading up to his birthday and for a few hours he had allowed himself to believe that maybe, maybe he _wouldn’t_ get a soulmark, that he really was so horrible no one would ever love him. He had cried with relief when his mark appeared.

He was mostly surprised that Peter seemed to _want_ him. And yes, it wasn’t as though Stiles could make any claims about their relationship, but the man had held him just as tight and for just as long as Stiles did. He wasn’t about to fool himself into thinking it was something more than it was, but he would also acknowledge what it _could_ mean.

When the final bell rang he had remained in his seat, in no rush to get home where he would be alone with his thoughts. He waited until his teacher left before releasing a final breath, slumping lower in his seat. He just - he had been so nervous that somehow somebody was going to figure it out and that something bad would happen.

He didn’t want to loose Peter before he had even gotten the chance to _know_ the man.

He walked out of the school slowly, letting his mind wander. He wasn’t sue how things were going to change, but he could hardly imagine them staying the same now that he had met his soulmate, now that his soulmate was _real_. And there was also Peter, what the man may want from him, what they could be now that they knew each other.

He hadn’t been expecting anything so soon though, so hearing his name being called was definitely a surprise. He turned to see Peter jogging over to him, just as gorgeous as he had been this morning. The man’s brief case was under his arm and his cardian was no longer buttoned up, instead flapping in the air as he jogged.

“Stiles,” The man breathed out, coming to a stop just a little too close.

“Oh, uh, hello Mr. Hal-”

“Please, call me Peter.” The man insisted and Stiles smiled, nodding slightly and trying to fight off a ridiculous blush.

“Okay, Peter. Uhm, hello.”

“Can you, would you, - why don’t you come over?” Peter asked, and despite how confident the man looked, Stiles could see the shaking of his fingers, heard the stutter in his voice. It helped, knowing that the man was even a fraction as nervous as he was.

“I - okay. I’ll follow you?” The boy offered, gesturing to the student parking lot where his jeep sat waiting. There was also the fact that he didn’t trust the man enough to get in his car yet. Sure, they were soulmates and the universe or whatever powers may happen to be had destined them together, but that didn’t mean his soulmate wasn't some crazy, murdering psycho.

So he had driven himself, his hands shaking as he gripped too-tight to the steering wheel. He didn't, god he didn’t know what he was thinking. Being the Sheriff’s son meant he knew all about stranger danger, and he knew about it in a very real way. He saw the cases his father brought home, shamelessly looked through files and he knew about the horrors that happened in the world.

But, but Peter was his _soulmate_ . And alright, Stiles knew that didn’t mean anything, that the man could still be dangerous, could still hurt him - but it had to count for something, right? He also didn't think Peter _would_ kill him, though he knew better than to judge a book by its cover, and knew that Peter could very much be dangerous. He just - he just didn’t think the man was.

He felt a little bit better when the man led him into the underground parking of an apartment building - a rather nice apartment building, from what Stiles could see. He waited in his car for Peter to park and get out of his, the man directing him over to a ‘visitor's parking’ section and Stiles pulled in slowly, taking his time getting out.

He left his bag in his jeep but he made sure to grab his phone, ensuring that his location services were on and working. The walk up to the apartment was quite, the elevator ride more so. But Stiles did stay close to the man, letting their arms brush during the trip and melting at Peters’ soft smile every time it happened.

“Uh, nice place?” Stiles offered, trying to find something to say. They were in Peter’s apartment now and he didn’t want the awkward silence from the walk to carry on.

And it _was_ a nice place, too. It wasn’t overly large, but Stiles figured it was more than big enough for a single man. The living room was to the right of the door, a large, comfortable looking couch in the middle of the room. There was a book shelf on the far wall that Stiles really, really wanted to look through and a beautiful looking TV mounted to the other.

The kitchen, opposite the living room, was open and modern, dark cupbards and shining marble. The island had a few stools and Stiles couldn't see any other tables in the room. There was a door ahead of him and a hallway that turned off to the left. The walls were fairly neutral, light greys and the decor was minimal, though there was a large art piece hanging in the hallway.

“I’m glad you like it,” Peter said, and he looked like he meant it, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled.

“Are you single?” Stiles blurted out, flushing darkly at the question. He hadn’t - he hadn’t _meant_ to ask, but he couldn't deny that he hadn’t been wondering. Peter was attractive, _fuck_ was he attractive, and Stiles couldn’t imagine how a man with his looks at his age could be alone.

Peter just cocked his head ot the side and stared at Stiles for a long moment before answering, “Of course I am. Why would I not be?”

Sitle couldn’t do more than shrug. He - he guessed Peter had a point. Most people didn't date, and if they did, it was rarely serious. But there were people who did, were communities of people who rebelled against the ideas of soulmarks, who refused to follow the hype and dated on their own. There were also those whose marks faded to a pale shiny white, signaling the death of their soulmate.

So sure, Peter could have dated others - but the chances of it happening were slim. Stiles just wanted to be sure, make sure he wasn't coming in and potentially, _ruining_ anything.

“Okay, cool,” Stiles said, rubbing at the back of his neck, “Good.”

“Are you?” Peter asked, raising a brow but there was a slight frown on his face and Stiles was quick to reassure him that was most certainly was. The man had laughed at his stuttering but it didn’t make him feel embarrassed, instead his own giggle bubbled out and he flushed, embarrassed.

After that, it was better. They had sat next to each other on Peter’s big - and incredibly comfortable - couch and talked. They had kept the conversation light, more talking about their mutual likes and dislikes, exploring shared passions and even some they didn’t. Stiles felt comfortable talking to the man, waving his hands as he talked excitedly, telling the man some of the wild things he knew but found infinitely interesting.

And Peter, Peter never made him feel embarrassed. He listened as Stiles ranted, as he theorized about movies they had both seen, providing the man little bits of trivia. He never felt like he was being too loud, or too excited or too weird, not with the way the man was grinning at him from the seat next to him. It was refreshing, to be able to talk and act so freely, to not have to monitor his mannerisms.

They had made a late dinner, comfortably working together in the kitchen in a way that spoke of an easy routine. It was weird that they could already co exist so well, but Stiles figured the soulmate thing maybe _did_ deserve some of the credit. It was amazing, though, to be so at ease in the man's presence.

Stiles had been so worried that morning, so scared about what it could possibly mean for them. But - but he didn’t _have_ to be, and that was now easy to see. The two of them got along well, Peter’s dry wit and scathing sarcasm a perfect match for Stiles’ own. They had ate at the island, sitting atop the bar stools, and Stiles was not ashamed when he leaned a little to the side just so that they’re arms would brush together.

They had made their way back to the couch, sitting much closer together as they continued to talk, the TV playing softly and quietly in the background. It was soft, comfortable, and Stiles was shameless as he leaned into the man's side. Peter had just chuckled and raised his arm, letting the boy snuggle close as he tuned back to the TV. It was a marvel movie, and although Stiles had seen it multiple times he got lost in it, the warmth of Peter’s body at his side entirely too comfortable.

Stiles woke too warm. He was lying atop Peter’s chest, the man still sleeping under him. The time on the television box read 3:46 a.m and Stiles decided this was something he could deal with in the morning.

The second time he woke up it was too his face mashed into Peter’s chest, his body on it’s side cushioned between the back of the couch and the man's body. He was incredibly comfortable and he didn't’ want to move but his alarm was blaring on his phone. He tried to wiggle out of the man's hold but Peter had latched on tight, not letting up.

Peter grumbled and pulled Stiles closer, rolling on top the boy. Stiles flailed his hands and Peter laughed cuddling harder as Stiles struggled. The boy managed to roll over, pushing Peter’s weight off him. Unfortunately the man fell to the floor with a thud and an _oomph_ , Stiles giggling as he grabbed his phone and hit snooze on the alarm.

He rolled off the couch as well, falling onto Peter’s body and pushing the breath out of him. Stiles just laughed, though he did push his face into Peter’s shirt when the man wrapped him in his arms, his head thunking back against the floor as he sighed.

“We have nine more minutes,” Stiles mumbled, the quiet atmosphere and sleep addled brain making the easy affection seem so natural.

Peter just nodded and held Stiles tighter.

When their alarm went off again, Stiles had pushed himself up with no small amount of regret, shame already flooding his body.

“Uhm, can I borrow a shirt?” Stiles asked quietly, looking down at the floor, embarrassed.

“You know this was okay, right?” The man said, melding himself to Stiles back and gently looping his arms around the boy's middle.

It did help to calm Stiles and he leaned back, resting more of his weight against Peter and slowly bringing his hands up to twine their fingers together. He couldn’t help but be unsure in his welcome, though he was trying to stay positive, to not let his own doubts hold him back. He smiled to himself when Peter tightened his hold and Stiles let out a sigh of relief, though he was already dreading his day at school.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Not much had changed. He still went to school like normal, still flailed during lacrosse practice - though he was seriously considering dropping it and taking up the track team. It wasn’t as though he didn't already run for pleasure. He stayed up doing homework, working himself in his classes in the goal to graduate at the end of the semester. He was studying independently the last three courses he needed to graduate, and if things kept going according to plan, he’d have his diploma by February. If he wasn’t doing that, he was up too late reading strange wikipedia facts, trying to distract from his empty house.

Only now he didn’t _have_ to read wikipedia facts to distract himself. Now he had Peter. After that first night they had kept up a heavy flow on communication. Their free periods had lined up, both having a break before lunch, so they spent just over two hours together everyday. It was nice, to be so comfortable in someone's else's presence. Stiles didn’t really have anyone in his life who he could just sit and work with, so he cherished their time together.

When they weren’t together, they were texting. Stiles was constantly teasing the man about his habit of texting during his classes, though Stiles wasn’t going to protest the constant communication. It was nice learning about the other man. They talked often on the phone and late into the night, sharing intimacies of their lives. Stiles had never before felt like he could share so much with another person, had never felt safe enough too.

Peter felt safe.

Stiles - Stiles treasured it. He hadn’t had someone he could be this close to since his mother. It was refreshing to have someone to share his life with, someone he could turn to when he was excited or upset. Peter never seemed bothered by him either, never annoyed when Stiles found a new topic and shared his research in a series of rapid fire texts that could have just been sent in one paragraph.

The man also never seemed annoyed when Stiles called him past midnight just to hear the man's voice, and would always stay on the line, awake, until Stiles finally fell asleep. It had been so good, _so_ good and Stiles figured he should have expected something to happen, for something to come along and disrupt the routine they had settled into. Stiles realized long ago that good things rarely lasted - and this, this had been a _good thing._

He just hadn’t been expecting the interruption to be his near daily locker slam. He’d been walking to Peter’s classroom - having gone to buy them lunch - and he hadn’t been focusing on his surroundings, sending the man a text as he went. It had been happening more often lately, him staying unaware of his surroundings and instead invested in his phone, talking to the older man.

Usually he was able to avoid the worst of it. His tormentors were primarily Jackson Whittemore and his cronies and it had been them for years. He was pretty sure it started during his freshman year when he had awkwardly asked Jackson’s then-ex-girlfriend out on a date. It had been an incredibly embarrassing ordeal but the girl had said _yes_ , and although nothing came from it - other that Stiles buying her dinner - Jackson had never forgiven him. It didn’t help that Lydia had gotten back together with Jackson only days after, either.

So he had never really done anything - other than be smarter than all of them and not embarrassed by it - but it seemed as though they made it their mission to torment him. It may have something to do with Jackson’s pennant for speeding and Stiles’ father being the Sheriff - so of course every ticket the boy got was somehow Stiles’ direct fault. It didn’t help that Jackson's father was a horrible district attorney that didn’t get along with Stiles’ own.

So really, Stiles had never done anything to deserve the abuse he got, but high school was high school and it was something he had learned to deal with years ago. It hardly bothered him, especially when he really was graduating so soon. He knew high school was going to be such a small, insignificant part of his life, that it was barely worth allowing himself to be truly bothered by it.

At least, that was what he told himself every time he wanted to give up.

So being shoved into a locker wasn’t all that big of a deal, wasn’t something that would regularly bother him. He just picked himself up and stared after the older boy that had shoved him with annoyed disinterest. He checked his to-go bag, happy that both containers were still closed and hoped their food would still be intact.

He closed the door to the classroom behind him, smiling over at the man distractedly, going about taking off his coat and scarf. Their October had been unreasonably cold and Stiles had been bundling up a heavily, _hating_ the inconvenience that was being cold.

When he finally looked up Peter was staring at him with a strange look, his face more closed off that Stiles had previously seen. He went to ask what was wrong but Peter just shook his head at him, before taking a deep breath. Stiles realized the man was _angry_ , something he hadn’t seen before and wasn’t sure what to do with. But Peter just stalked towards him, not letting Stiles get a word in before he started talking.

“How often does that happen?” Peter all but growled, tugging Stiles close and holding on tight. It - it wasn’t exactly comfortable with the way his ribs were aching, but he certainly wasn’t going to protest. Peter smelled as good as he always did, aftershave and pine and _home_. Stiles figured he should be worried about how quickly he was getting attached, how much just being in the man's arms calmed him but - but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“It’s fine,” Stiles tried but Peter shook his head above him and Stiles sighed, “Often. Not always daily, but, often.”

“ _Who?_ ”

“No.” Stiles said, firm. He wasn’t, he wasn’t going to make things worse. He had been dealing with it on his own long enough. It just wasn’t worth the hassle, not when he would be gone in only a few months. But he could tell Peter wasn’t happy about it, wasn’t pleased with his decision to let it go, “Peter, I’m serious. I’m going to be gone in like three months it’s no-”

“Wait, _gone_?” Peter asked, pulling back so he could look down at Stiles, brows pulled down in confusion.

“Did I not mention it?” Stiles asked quirking a brow. Peter just shook his head and Stiles brightened up, his mood turning.

“I’m taking the last of my classes independently! So by January I will have all the credits I need to graduate, and then I won’t be in any classes next semester and I can apply to get my diploma!”

“Jesus, you’re brilliant.” The man said against his forehead and then he was leaning in, giving Stiles more than enough time to move away. He didn’t, instead he leaned up and pressed his lips against Peters, sighing into the kiss as he relaxed further into the man's hold. It only lasted a moment before Peter was pulling back and softly resting their foreheads together.

Stiles just giggled, flushing brightly when he did and tucking his face into the man's neck, hugging him back. It - it was nice for someone he cared about to recognize his intelligence. He wasn’t sure his father actually _knew_ that he was graduating in only a few short months, though Stiles has mentioned it to the man. His dad was just, _distant_ on the best of days, so he wasn’t sure the man even knew.

“I’ve applied to a few Universities too,” He muttered, squeezing the man a little tighter. He - he wasn’t sure what would happen then, and he wasn’t sure he even wanted to think about it. But Peter had learned how to read him too well in the short time they’d known each other, and the man noticed he was upset right away.

“I can get a job anywhere, darling. If that’s what you’re worried about.” Peter said like it was no big deal, like following Stiles somehow made sense and Stiles had to wonder once again what it could have been like for Peter, waiting twenty two years to find his soulmate. To be alone, for so long.

So maybe, maybe it _was_ simple for Peter to say things like that, to offer to uproot his entire life for Stiles. Maybe it was easy for the man to say things like that, because it was just easy for him to think like that.

* * *

“Sweetheart, I want you to be comfortable in these clothes,” The man said calmly, and for the third time. It was just, Stiles wasn't sure he _could_ feel comfortable wearing clothes this expensive. He was raised by a single dad who had to deal with a lot of medical bills and he was used to getting clothing from thrift stores, to shopping sales. What Peter was offering - well it was almost too much.

There was also the fact that Peter had repeatedly refused any form of payment. The man was firm in his decision to do this, had said multiple times that he _wanted_ to. Apparently he had the money, and Stiles, well he could only argue so much.

They were shopping. _Shopping_. Hours earlier - far too early for a Saturday, really - Peter had called and had asked if Stiles wanted to go out for the day. Obviously Stiles wanted to spend the day with Peter and he forced himself awake at _nine_ _in the morning_ , showering and dressing quickly before leaving his empty house.

Peter had picked him up and had driven them the two hours over to the next town. Beacon Hills had a mall, though even Stiles had to admit it let much to be desired. The mall they were at now was not only bigger, but more expensive - having a variety of high quality shops.

Peter had dragged him into their first store and piled his arms high with clothes Stiles had just went with it. He hadn’t paid too much attention, instead watching the man himself. Peter looked so different in worn jeans a t shirt, good, of course, but different. He was - softer like this, his hair loosely styles as opposed to it’s usual neatness. He was also clearly focusing hard, staring intently at the racks.

So Stiles hadn’t noticed price tags - or even the _type_ of clothing the man had been handing him until he was already in the stall. But when he had? He had flushed darkly, spluttering to himself and tripping over his own foot. His fingers had began to shake slowly and anxiety pooled in his stomach. He couldn’t, god he just _couldn’t_. It wasn’t just that everything was ridiculously expensive either - it as just that none of this stuff were even in his size. Or, the size he wore, at least.

The shirts were all mediums and Stiles was used to stealing his father's extra large flannels and pilling those over large comic t’s. His usual jeans were baggy but these - well these already looked skinny and he hadn’t even put them _on_ yet. There were also a collection of soft looking cardigans but those didn’t look to be Stiles size at all, in fact they looked much like something Peter would wear.

Having a pile of the man's cardigan’s made a lot more sense when the man walked in behind him, turning to lock the door before looking over with a smile. They were in the corner stall, the largest of the six and he no longer wandered why Peter had directed him there. He blushed even harder when the man smiled softly at him, the skin around his eyes crinkling. It _shouldn’t_ be beautiful, but Stiles couldn’t find it in himself to see it as anything but.

“Are you going to try something on?” The man asked quietly, stepping up to the bench and beginning to separate the clothes into piles. Jeans and shirts on one side and Peter’s pile of sweaters and cardigans on the other.

Stiles just swallowed, trying desperately to push down his nerves. He pulled off his plaid first, leaving his baggy over shirt on before pushing down his jeans. He made a strangled noise when he realized he was wearing a pair of batman briefs. They were old and worn, though they fit him snugly and Stiles knew the clung to his ass, the yellow batman symbol spread over his cheeks.

God, he hadn’t even remembered he was wearing them, and he couldn’t imagine what Peter must of thought of them.

He bent over to pull his foot through and the man groaned behind him, a low pained noise. Stiles turned his head to see Peter staring at his ass, the man's eyes half lidded as he smirked. Stiles just blushed, straightened up quickly and stuttering, trying to come up with something to say. He finally just gave up, not at all amused by the man chuckling at him.

He pulled up his pants with a pout, having to hop into them just a little to get them over his ass. The fit snugly but Stiles had to admit they were still comfortable, the denim strangely soft. He just, he just wasn’t _sure_ , the pants so far out of his comfort zone, so different from something he would usually wear.

“I don’t know,” Stiles admitted softly, turning back and forth in front of the mirror. They did look good, but they were so, so _tight_. Not skin tight or anything, but they hugged his legs well, sticking to his thighs and hugging his ass, “I don’t know if I could ever wear them.”

Peter just stepped forward, wrapping the boy in a hug and letting Stiles rest his head on the man's shoulder, holding him loosely.

“See this?” Peter asked and Stiles turned his head toward the mirror. Peter had an arm raised and shamelessly settled his palm atop the curve of Stiles’ ass, “Yes, you can. And you should, because you are finally in pants that actually show it off.”

Stiles whined when Peter brought his other arm around and grabbed two handfuls of the boy's ass. He turned his face into the man's neck, breathing into the skin. Peter smelled as good as he always did and it made Stiles relax further, letting Peter hold a little more of his head. He was hardening as Peter continued to massage his ass, groping at the skin.

They looked good - next to each other. They were almost the same height though Peter was so much wider, the man's shoulders thick were the caged Stiles in, the man's body wrapping around his own. Peter caught his eye in the mirror and grinned, only looking away as he leaned down for a chaste kiss.

“This, is payment enough. I can’t to wait to watch you strut around in these, pulling stares from everyone. And sweetheart, people _will_ stare, because you are beautiful. But you know what else?” Stiles shook his head, his heart beating faster and breath coming quicker just from the man's words, “Staring is the most they’ll ever get, because you’re _mine_.”

Stiles nodded his head, rutting forward into the meat of the man's thigh when it was placed between his legs, his cock straining against the button of the skinny jeans. Peter’s hands were prodding at his ass, masaging and pulling him forward to grind harder and Stiles went easily, moaning at a particularly hard thrust.

“So good, baby, you’re doing so good for me,” Peter praised and it made Stiles feel light headed and hazy and it made his cock impossibly harder where he was grinding into the man.

He was - he was already getting close, could feel his balls pulling up tight as the pressure continued to build, pulling low in his belly as he breathed deep. He sucked and kissed and bit at the skin in front of him, trying to suck a mark into the man's neck, because yes, Peter was right. Stiles was his, but it went both ways. Peter belonged to Stiles now, and the boy wanted everyone to know that. Whether it be the sales associates shamelessly flirting with the man or the students at his school, Stiles wanted people to _know_ Peter was taken.

He came harshly at the thought of Peter wearing his marks, biting down hard and tasting blood on his tongue when he finally pulled back. He cock twitched out even more cum and he whined at the feeling, thrusting weakly against the man, slumping forward. Peter just leaned back against the door, drawing Stiles with him and supporting the boy against his chest.

Stiles breathed deep, settling himself firmer against the man and sighing when Peter began to run his fingers through the boys hair. He let his eyes fall closed again, giving himself a moment to rest. He could feel the cum cooling inside his underwear, already an uncomfortable mess but he decided to think about it later and let himself drift off for a moment.

* * *

Stiles pushed through the main doors of the school trying hard not to fidget. He felt - he felt like he were on display, with the way everyone had turned to watch him. He was wearing a pair of his new jeans - black and ripped slightly at one knee - and they hugged his body. Even Stiles didn’t know his ass could ever look so good, but he would be lying if he said he hadn’t spent a few extra minutes checking himself out in the mirror.

The shirt he was wearing was a pale lavender and Peter had told him it made his eyes look brighter. He wasn’t sure about that, but the glasses he had perched on his nose _did_ make them look bigger. The frames were thick and black and they just made Stiles’ already long lashes look longer. The shirt fit tight, stretching out over his body and showing off his admittedly lean frame.

Stiles ran to clear his head, so what.

His hair was cut too - another surprise trip Peter had taken him on that weekend. It was much the same, though considerably shorter on the sides and back, the new style drawing attention to the cut of his cheekbones.

He - well he looked good and he _knew_ it, but that didn't mean he wasn’t a little nervous. He was more excited than anything, all but brimming to see Peter’s reaction.  
He walked quickly to the man's classroom, not even bothering to stop at his locker, praying that no one else would be in there. He tried his best not to skip, and not even the silence-turned-whispering caused by his presence could dampen his mood, the smile on his face not once faltering. The mans door was closed so he knocked gently, softly pushing it open and scanning the room before closing the door behind him

“ _Oh fuck_ ,” Peter said lowly, voice more of a growl than anything and Stiles’ eyes snapped up to where the man was staring wide eyed, mouth dropped open. Peter crossed the distance between them in large strides and crowded Stiles against the door, wasting absolutely no time in firmly kissing the boy.

Peter sucked Stiles bottom lip into his mouth, nipping and sucking on it until Stiles was whining, fisting his hands into the man's hair, ruining the neat style it was always in. Peter firmly grabbed Stiles’ ass and tugged their bodies together, moaning against the boy's lips. Stiles slid his tongue over the man's lips, slipping it inside Peter’s mouth once he was able to, twining their tongues together. He placed another open mouthed kiss to the Peter’s lips before slumping back, resting his weight on the closed door behind him and leaning his head back, breathing harshly.

“You look so good!” Peter exclaimed, his smile bright and more than a fair bit smug.

“Thank you,” Stiles said, ducking his head and flushing, his face turning blotchy and red.

Peter leaned in for another quick kiss, letting the contact linger but keeping it chaste, “God, how am I supposed to focus on teaching when I know you look like _that_?”

Stiles giggled gently, placing his hands on the man's chest and just resting them there, Peter’s hands moving from his ass to loosely hold him close. The boy pretended to hum in thought, tilting his head in an obnoxious show of thinking. The man just chuckled and kissed the boy's nose, Stiles smiling wide in response.

Stiles sighed softly before gently pushing the man away, picking his bag up from the floor and starting to his usual seat at the back of the class, “I was thinking I would come over tonight.”

“You were over two nights ago?” Peter asked, raising a brow as Stiles settled himself.

“Oh!” Stiles said quickly, already mentally slapping himself at sounding too eager, “Right, right. Sorry. Okay, uh, I just kind of wanted to make you dinner? But like I get it if you have other things to do? You know? No big deal really and I -”

“Darling,” The man said, cutting off Stiles’ rambling. The boy sucked in a large breath, trying to breathe properly once again, “I would _love_ for you to come over tonight. My home is always open to you.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, ducking his head and blushing - his damn near constant state in front of the other man - but before he could say anything the door to the classroom opened, the noises of the hall filtering in.

Stiles just pulled out his notebook, quickly looking up to see Peter sending him a small smile that he returned easily, releasing a breath that they were still okay. The class came in quickly after that, almost all of them arriving before the first bell, a near miracle at this school. It wasn’t a secret that Mr. Hale was a hard ass, though.

Sure, the man didn’t assign detentions but he did assign extra work, work that _would_ be graded and those grades would affect their overall score in the class. So students had quickly begun to behave, none being too fond of receiving extra, mandatory work that they couldn’t just bullshit their way through.

Stiles wasn’t particularly paying attention, instead writing out the recipe he intended to use in his notebook, making a list of things he knew he needed and things to make sure Peter still had. So when the class all began watering at once, disturbing the silence of the room he looked up with a start, tilting his head in question to what was going on.

“Damn Mr. Hale, that is a big bruise!”

“Are those teeth indents?”

“Get it Mr. Hale!”

“Oh shit dude.”

“Enough!” The man snapped, glaring at the students and Stiles couldn’t keep his smirk down, nor the giggle he bubbled out of his throat. He slapped a hand over his mouth and blushed dark red, most of the class turning to glare at him.

“Anything you would like to add, Stiles?” The man asked and Stiles lost it, quaffing with laughter as he doubled in half, his entire body shaking with it. His eyes were steadily streaming at he tried to blink them clear to look at the other man but he - god he couldn't’ stop.

It was just, that was _his_ mark his peers were whispering over. He could hear what some of the girls beside him had been saying, how jealous they were, how they wished they could be the ones and it - it just made him laugh. God, if only they _knew_ , knew that it was him who left marks from his teeth. Not only that, but that he had made that mark accidentally.

He really hadn't meant to draw blood, and had apologized profusely when he first saw it. The man assured him that he didn’t mind though, and Stiles couldn’t help but believe him after the man had placed Stiles’ hand against his cock, hard and straining in his jeans. He had offered to help, but the man had been firm in his ‘no’. He had quickly assured Stiles that it _wasn’t_ a definite no, just a not yet - that the boy was still young and while he would allow Stiles to get off in his presence he didn’t think he should do the same, at least not so soon into their relationship.

Peter was also firm that he didn’t want Stiles rushing into anything, didn’t want the teen to do anything he would then regret. Stiles honestly didn't think he could regret doing anything with Peter, but the was thankful for the man's decency nonetheless.

He had still been reeling from the man's casual declaration of them being in a relationship. It still sometimes surprised him how confident Peter was in them, how sure he was in them lasting. They had talked a few times about the future - especially with Stiles leaving sooner than the man had first thought.

Stiles had to finish trying on clothes after that, his underwear a horrid mess. Peter had just bought multiple jeans in the same size, saying he had an eye for such things and assuring Stiles that everything would fit just fine and that the boy needn’t worry. Peter did force him to try on more shirts, ignoring Stiles’ more than enthusiasm complaining and having to walk around in his soaked underwear.

Luckily they had left soon after and overall Stiles had an amazing day, dozing slightly on their drive back. Peter had just let him, letting Stiles hold his hand in his lap as Peter drove.

All in all it had been a good day, and the hickey he left had not been one of the things he remembered about it. So to see it now - and really Stiles had no idea how he missed it, high and dark, bruised purple on the left side of Peter’s neck - was hilarious, especially because it were his classmates pointing it out, the ones who told him he could never have a soulmate, could never be happy.

“Stiles, if you cannot control yourself in my class, perhaps you can control yourself in the office?” Peter asked and it only made Stiles laugh harder, the ridiculousness and inappropriateness of the entire situation.

So, still laughing, Stiles packed up his bag, ignoring the stares of his students around him and managing to catch the tremor of Peter’s lip, the man trying his best not to laugh. He also caught the man's appreciative gaze over his ass, and if he wiggled his hips a little extra as he giggled no one had to know.

* * *

Graduation had been - it had been amazing. He wasn’t part of a ceremony, rather going to the office one day during Christmas break to collect his diploma. Peter drove him, the man packing up his classroom as Stiles talked with the admin. The two secretaries were outrageously proud and both demanded photos, neither looking surprised when Peter showed up during their conversation.

Peter had taken them for dinner after, and Stiles managed to talk the man out of going anywhere fancy, and instead they had went to a small dinner near the edge of town, the same one they’d been going to in the three months since they had met. The people there knew them, some staff even knew their orders and all were incredibly friendly. The food was good and prices low and Stiles loved it.

It had been a nice night, complete with an even nicer round of _’lovemaking’,_ as Peter seemed adamant to call it. Peter had taken his time stretching Stiles out before sliding in slowly, cradling the boy's face in his hands as he carefully rocked forward, grinding his cock into Stiles’ prostate until the boy was begging for more. Peter still hadn’t relented, instead kept the pace slow and sweet until Stiles was spilling between them, Peter quickly following.

The first time they tried to have sex - well, it didn’t go so well. Sties couldn’t relax enough for Peter to get more than a finger inside him, and even using the amount of lube Peter was didn’t help. It had been so embarrassing, and Stiles had ended up crying, Peter holding him close and whispering words of comfort into his ear.

The second time they tried went a little better. Peter got up to three fingers, though even that was a little too tight for Stiles to enjoy. He didn’t get as upset this time, and Peter ending up blowing him, swapping cum with Stiles as he fucked into Stiles’ lubed fist. Both of them had been incredibly satisfied with the events that took place, though Stiles had to admit it just made him feel _more_ determined to get it right.

For the next week and a half he had fingered himself every time he showered, every night before bed that he spent at his own home. He got himself up to five fingers, knowing Peter’s were thicker than his. The next time they had sex, Peter had been able to slide in and Stiles had _really_ found out what his prostate was good for.

So it hadn’t been the first time they had sex but Stiles had treasured the night, knew he would _continue_ to treasure it, even if he teased Peter about his corniness. Besides, it wasn’t like Peter _looked_ like a huge softy, and it was only fair for the boy to tease him a little about his inner romantic side.

The next morning - the next morning the man had turned serious, sitting on the couch and pulling Stiles into his lap and holding him close as he urged Stiles to speak to his father. And the man had a point. They were moving in less than a month, Stiles having begun to help Peter pack.

They were moving into a small apartment right off campus.

It was a cute thing, within a good distance from his classes _and_ right next door to a coffee shop. Not only that but it was close enough to Peter’s new school that it wouldn’t take long for the man to drive there, either. It was near perfect and Peter had gotten it for them at a good price. They were bringing Peter’s belongings with them, since they both expected to be living their for the next four years.

Stiles, Stiles still couldn't believe how lucky he’d gotten with Peter.

But, no matter how much he cared for the man it did not mean he wanted to talk to his dad. He - he couldn’t even remember the last time he _had_ spoken to his father, let alone seen the man. He had been spending a minimum of three nights a week at Peter’s house since the week after they first met, and his father had no idea.

This wasn’t a conversation Stiles wanted to have. He - he wasn’t sure exactly what he thought he was going to get out of it, but he certainly did not want to have it. He knew he needed to - how could he not, with Peter constantly getting on his case about it - but he just, he just _didn’t want to_. But Peter was going to be moving his entire life for him, and Stiles figured he could at least do this little thing for the other man. Not that it was a little thing, no.

Talking to his father for the first time in years, really, was not a little thing, nor was it something Stiles wanted to happen. Infact that’s what he kept telling Peter right then, though the man didn’t seem to care. He just kept driving, hand held firmly in Stiles’ too-tight grip as he stayed calm, watching the road as he drove.

It seemed far too soon before they were pulling up to the station and Stiles didn’t want to get out of the car, didn’t want to let go, but Peter urged him on. With a sigh he levered himself out of the car, pulling Peter’s cardigan firmer around himself and trying to drown in the soft fabric.

The steps to the station were familiar and he had once spent so much time here, running along these halls when he was too young to stay on his own, his father wheeling form the lost of his mother and even more distant than he was now. It was weird to be back, the same strangeness that settled in him when he returned home after an entire weekend at Peter’s was flaring inside him now, making his fingers shake where they gripped the fabric.

“Hi Tara,” He said quietly, and the woman seemed shocked to see him, since she just gaped with her mouth open.

So he walked past her, trying to rely on his memory to make his way to his father's office. He was happy at the ease in which he found it, knocking gently before opening and looking inside. His father was sitting at the desk, papers strewn in front of him. The desk was large but the computer sitting atop it looked ancient and Stiles felt uncomfortable being here.

“Uh, hi?” Stiles felt like a stranger. That - that was probably the worst part, that talking to his own father could be something so foreign.

“Oh, Stiles! Is, is everything okay?” His dad’s eyes went wide and Stiles thought the man looked older than the last time he’d seen him - though to be fair he hadn’t really seen the man in years.

“Uh yeah, yeah I just need to talk to you?” He tried, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

“Oh. Oh, all right.”

Stiles muttered under his breath, a hand coming up to rub self consciously at the back of his neck. He muttered out what he had wanted to say, looking to the floor awkwardly.

“Wait - wait you’re what?” His dad demanded, the man's brow pulling down in confusion.

“I’m moving out.” Stiles said again, louder this time. It was better to just be straightforward, to just be upfront with the man about what was going on.

“What the hell do you mean you’re moving out?” The Sheriff demanded, his voice turning cold.

“I mean, I got into Berkeley and so I’m moving out the-”

“How the hell did you get into Berkeley?!”

“Well I took a few extra classes an-”

“Aren’t you in the eleventh grade?!” His dad shouted, slamming a hand down on his desk. Stiles was just glad his office door was closed.

“No. No, I was moved up a year, so I never attended the tenth grade, instead skipped to the eleventh. Then I took extra courses on my own, and now I have my diploma and I’m going to University.”

“I-” The man's eyes turned red, water welling within them and Stiles didn’t know what to do - didn’t know how to handle seeing his father cry, “ _Fuck_. Fuck kid, I - I’m so sorry.”

Stiles just stood there, wrapping his arms around himself. He - he didn’t know what he was supposed to do. He felt like a stranger in front of his dad and he didn’t know what to say, how to act.

“Okay. Okay. So, you said Berkeley? How in the hell are we affording that, Kiddo?” Stiles didn’t want to admit that the nickname was making his chest tight. It had just been so long since the man had called him that, had called him anything really. But - but that was the problem. It was his father who decided he didn’t want to be in Stiles’ life and he had long since decided he wasn’t going to let his father negligence hurt him.

“I got almost a full ride, actually.” Stiles couldn't keep the bit of smugness out of his voice. He was _smart_ , and it felt like a victory against everyone who had ever called him stupid or pushed him around or even looked down on him.

“And the rest? What about the living costs?” It was a fair question, but it made Stiles angry. The man would _know_ if he paid any attention to Stiles’, but he _didn’t_ , and that was the problem.

“My soulmate.” He said flatly, leveling a glare at the man.

“You - you found your soulmate?” His dad was really crying then, not even bothering to hide it either and Stiles didn't know what to do, didn’t how to comfort a man he never saw - that he didn’t know.

“Yes, uh, back in October?” He admitted, flinching a little when the man inhaled sharply, “He’s, he’s paying the difference?”

“Oh,” The man said quietly, looking down.

“Yeah,” Stiles replied, not sure what to say. He could - he could. Oh fuck it, he was going to, “Would you like to meet him?”

His dad just nodded and his smile looked far more like a grimace - but Stiles just couldn’t bring it to himself to care.

“You could come for dinner tonight?” He offered before he could stop himself. It wasn’t his fault he stayed at Peter’s so often the place was more his than his own home was.

“ _Come for dinner_?” The man demanded, voice raising in volume.

“Uh yeah?” Stiles tried, shifting his weight backwards.

“Stiles, how often are you not home?” His dad asked, and Stiles felt like a subject, like he had done something guilty.

“Honestly a lot more than I actually am.” He kept his voice strong, not letting his dad make him feel like the bad guy. Stiles hadn’t doing anything wrong, and if the man wanted to think so, well. Like Stiles said, he was moving.

“And who the hell gave you the right to do so?”

“No. No, you _don’t_ get to do that! You haven’t been a parent since mom died and you don’t get to start now!” Stiles said, his hands shaking in the fists he made at his sides, anger flooding his system.

“Now just you wait a minute! I know I’ve been a little distant but -”

“A little distant!” Stiles _screamed_ , “I haven’t been home in three weeks!”

His dad’s face seemed to shatter at that, and Stiles watched as the man tried to deny it, tried to argue but realized he _couldn’t_. Stiles grabbed a pen from the cup on his dad’s desk, wiping at his eyes as he scribbled on the corner of a blank piece of paper, “This, this is Peter’s apartment. If - You can come for dinner.”

And then he was gone, wiping harder at his eyes and all but running to where Peter was waiting in the parking lot.

* * *

“I love you,” Stiles said, leaning back into Peter’s hold. They were standing in _their_ living room, Stiles having just completed his first day of class. Peter didn’t start until next week so the man had been finishing up their move, unpacking as Stiles went to school. They had almost everything out now, their closet full of clothes, cups and plates neatly put away in their cupboards.

“I love you too,” Peter said against Stiles’ neck, pulling the boy flush against his chest.

Stiles relaxed into it, his lips twitching up into a smile. He knew there were still boxes to unpack, that he had still had to find his way around campus, that Peter had to get settled at his new school. He still had to call his father - which was a daunting task in itself, but the man seemed intent on trying to repair their relationship.

But for right now Stiles just sighed, leaning against Peter, looking down at their soulmarks next to each other, and he smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> holy, fucking, shit. This is the longest one shot I have **ever** written! This is insane! 12k, what in the hell!!!! I did not set out for this story to be so long. I was no expecting it, at all! It was a literal shock, and I have no idea how I ever did it. It took me about 3 days of writing and another 4 of editing before this story was finally done, and I cannot believe it.
> 
> I love it. I am so, so proud of myself. Steter Week is becoming a fucking doozy, with how many words I'm writing for it. I hit my nano goal days ago, and this fic has _so much_ to do with that. 
> 
> About this fic. Yes, Stiles is sixteen. Is their a reason? No, not really. I just wanted him to be younger than his peers, mostly because it could add a reason to his bullying and I like the idea of Stiles being smart smart. This is not the only fic I have where I wrote him skipping a grade, LOL. 
> 
> I tried my best to talk about some of the power imbalances in their relationship. I did not go to specific into anything, because this was not the fic for that. Either way, I know this isn't the healthiest of relationships, but this is a fucking soulmate AU, I think it would be okay, lol.
> 
> I do hope you enjoyed it, and remember I am _always_ on tumblr, LOL!  
> [my tumblr!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


End file.
